The Staff of Sun Wukong
by Kirayoshi
Summary: Sequel to Fear Factor. Kim and Ron are in a race to obtain an ancient artifact of incredible power. But Shego's in the lead, and she's got a new partner Lupin the Third! The Girl Who Can Do Anything meets the World's Greatest Thief! Chapter two up.
1. Two Riders Were Approaching

Disclaimers:

Nope, still don't own KP. All rights go to the House that Walt Built. The song "All Along the Watchtower" was written and originally performed by Bob Dylan and later performed by Jimi Hendrix, U2 and pretty much anyone with a guitar, three chords and dreams of stardom.

The story is a crossover but I don't wanna say with what yet. Additional disclaimers will appear at the end of this chapter.

Spoilers:

Up to and including "So the Drama", but after that I'm making it up as I go along. Takes place after my earlier story "Fear Factor".

Rating:

PG to PG-13. No smut, some cartoony violence, two teens making out on occasion.

Note:

Kim and Ron aren't actually in the first chapter. It's a short piece that serves as a bridge between "So the Drama" and my main epic.

Kim Possible:

The Staff of Sun Wukong

Chapter One

Two Riders Were Approaching

_There must be some way out of here,  
Said the joker to the thief.  
There's just too much confusion,  
I can't get no relief.  
Businessmen, they drink my wine,  
Plowmen dig my earth.  
None of them along the line  
Know what any of it is worth..._

"Ten minutes, Lipsky," the guard grunted to the denim-clad figure who walked listlessly into the prison visiting room, the shackles that linked his ankles reducing his walk to a hobbling gate. A thick titanium chain connected the leg shackles to the cuffs around his wrists, making any sort of mobility difficult. "Your niece insisted on seeing you here."

"Niece?" Lipsky complained. "I have no niece—" Before he could continue, the guard had disappeared. Not knowing what else to do, Lipsky snarled slightly at the guard as he entered the room and sat behind the plexiglass partition. He was surprised to see a woman in a black trench coat sitting on the opposite side. A slouched fedora hat obscured her features.

Drew Lipsky, alias Doctor Drakken, hadn't expected anyone to visit him during his confinement. During his arraignment, his own mother, no longer able to turn a blind eye to his criminal dealings, had to be gaveled down by the judge after her outburst of "I hope you rot in jail!", before she walked out of the courtroom without so much as a backward glance. Drakken had later learned that she had moved away from Middleton the next day after legally changing her name, severing herself off her past life and her criminal son. All of his henchmen were incarcerated as well, and many of them cut deals to testify against Drakken.

The figure on the other side of the partition pressed the intercom button before removing her hat. Piercing jade eyes stared out of a pale, darkly smiling face. Although she had slathered on a thick layer of pancake makeup to hide her pale green complexion, Drakken gasped in recognition. "Shego?"

"Nice place you got here, Drakken," Shego observed caustically. "Oh, excuse me, Uncle Drew," she added in a teasing, little girl tone.

"Shego," Drakken whispered, "how did you escape?"

"Cut a deal with the DA," Shego answered matter-of-factly, "gave them the ol' sob story about how the mean ol' Doctor Drakken took advantage of my fragile emotional state after I ran away from Go City. Got transferred to a minimum security system, and from there—" She shrugged her shoulders in mock-innocence. "Wasn't even a challenge."

"Excellent," Drakken hissed, a faintly sinister smile twisting his lips. "So, now we can devise a plan for me to escape this hellhole."

"Way ahead of ya, Dr. D," Shego announced.

"Good work, Shego!" Drakken's grin flared evilly. "What's the plan?"

Shego smiled darkly as she extended her forefinger. "Step one; I slip out of Middleton and head out for Puerto Rico." She straightened a second finger. "Step two; I start a new career as a freelance mercenary."

"And then?"

"That's it, pretty much," Shego answered. "Good plan, huh?"

Drakken blinked wildly, gaping at Shego like a stunned flounder. "Um, Shego," Drakken hesitated for a moment before plunging in with his next question, "while your plan so far is elegant in its simplicity, at what part of this plan do you come back to rescue me?"

"Oh, that?" Shego shrugged her shoulders casually. "That's the beauty part of it. I don't."

"Wh-wha—" Drakken stammered. "You mean to tell me that you intend for me to rot in this stinking prison?"

"Doy!" Shego smiled mirthlessly. "Y'see, I finally realized that you're probably the worst criminal mastermind in history. You're a pathetic, whining little toad who failed in everything he ever set his mind to. A gal's gotta look to her own future, right? Y'know, cover her nut? And really, my best chance of not ending up behind bars again is to leave you here! Maybe I'll hook up with the Senors. If nothing else S. S. Senior has some class, and his son might be dumb as a sack of hammers but at least he's not difficult to look at."

"Shego," Drakken raised his voice in a feeble attempt to sound threatening. "I would remind you that we have a contract!"

"Which became null and void when your Diablo plan hit the fan," Shego snarled. "All because you insisted on leaving that buffoon in the same room as Kim! If you'd left them in separate rooms like I suggested, he wouldn't have snapped her out of her self-pity streak! You finally had her, but you blew it!"

"A mistake I won't make the next time we meet, Shego," Drakken insisted.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Shego droned, examining her fingernails. "The point is that there's not gonna be a next time. Y'see, you're going to go on trial, you're going to be convicted and you're likely never going to see the outside of a jail again, and once I'm out this door I will never even think of you again." Leaning forward, she added in a dark whisper, "In case it hasn't sunk in, you pathetic loser, I quit!" Repositioning her fedora to hide her face, Shego stood up and headed for the door, waving for a guard. The guard opened the locked door for her and she turned around and smiled with mock-sweetness towards Drakken. "Just remember, 'Uncle Drew', today's the first day of the rest of your life. Without possibility of parole." She blew him a kiss and departed.

Drakken fumed as another guard escorted him back to his cell. The Lowerton Penitentiary was only a holding ground, he was well aware of that. Once he was convicted he knew that he would be shuttled to a special prison constructed by Global Justice. The Vault, they called it. The most impenetrable facility on Earth, more heavily guarded and fortified than even Fort Knox. And if he failed to escape before then, he knew that he had no hope of seeing the outside world again.

His fevered brain began hatching plots, dismissing most of them as mere fantasy, but nurturing the few that had any hope of success. He had to think of something fast. He would not be chucked into the Vault and forgotten. He would escape. He had to escape. He could not allow those who defeated his plans to live a single peaceful second.

Kim Possible, surely. She would feel the full force of his vengeance. And Ron Stoppable. Yes, he remembered the name of the buffoon. How could he not after the boy humiliated him after the final battle with the Diablos? James Possible and his family, that boy Wade, anyone who ever regarded Kim and Ron as friends. They would pay.

And of course, Shego. No one betrayed Drakken and lived a long healthy life afterwards. There would be a settling of accounts.

Drakken grinned hideously. Oh yes. They would all pay...

_No reason to get excited  
The thief he kindly spoke;  
There are many here among us  
Who feel that life is but a joke:  
But you and I we've been through that  
And this is not our fate.  
So let us not talk falsely now,  
The hour's getting late..._

Buenos Aeries:

"Okay," the gangly figure whispered to his partner as they leaned against the stucco wall, evading the infra-red security camera that stood sentinel over the garden of the hacienda. "Where's our point of entry?"

The partner absently rested his hand against the Smith and Wesson Magnum he kept holstered under his jacket. "Security cameras along the perimeter," he pointed to the infra-red camera they were hiding from, as well as a second camera closer to the side entrance. "I take that camera out, we'll have two minutes to get in, nab a few million of our host's ill-gotten gains and skedaddle."

The master thief turned to the marksman. "Who says 'skedaddle' anymore?" The marksman simply shrugged. "Never mind," the thief replied. "Can you make that shot from here?"

The marksman said nothing more, but within a half-second he withdrew his pistol and blew away the camera, seemingly without even aiming. "Two minutes, Boss," he muttered. "Chop-chop."

The two criminals slipped easily into the hacienda, backs still hugging the walls as they inched through the residence. Their target was one of the wealthiest men in South America, and in recent years aspired to becoming a criminal mastermind. As such, the thief had no qualms about relieving his target of a few million dollars worth of jewelry.

Weeks of casing the premises proved fruitful; his scans of the hacienda indicated the most likely place where his target would keep his jewels, and nighttime surveillance showed where his cameras were kept, as well as the likely whereabouts of any infrared alarm beams. He slipped his night-vision goggles over his eyes and scanned the hallway ahead of him. A crisscross lattice of red glowing lines appeared before him, the beams scarcely a foot apart.

"Let me guess, bro," he whispered to his partner. "All attached to a high-sensitivity alarm system that'll go off at the slightest brush against those beams, right?" The marksman nodded wordlessly. "And I thought this was going to be a tough job," the thief grinned.

If there was one thing that this thief loved more than the glitter of coin or the soft planes of the female form, it was a challenge. But unknown to either of the two, they were not the only burglars in the hacienda that evening.

_All along the watchtower  
Princes kept the view  
While all the women came and went,  
Barefoot servants too.  
Outside in the distance  
A wildcat did growl.  
Two riders were approaching  
And the wind began to howl._

Shego lifted her lithe form effortlessly to the window sill and examined the wires that protruded from the window frame. No doubt the slightest effort to open the window from outside would set off the alarm.

She withdrew a compass-like device from the pouch at her belt, and affixed the suction cup at one end of the device to the glass, near where the window's latch was. She lowered the rotating arm of the compass to the window's surface, allowing the superheated glass-cutting tip to touch the glass. With practiced ease, she rotated the compass arm around the suction cup in a slow but steady full circle, creating a cookie-cutter perfect hole in the window. She removed the glass circle and compass from the window and reached her hand inside the resulting hole, until she could reach the latch to the window. She slowly unlatched the window, disconnecting the alarm circuit in the process.

Lifting the window open, she lowered herself into the hacienda. She smiled as she recognized the room she had entered; it was his private study. She made her way through the study, noticing a portrait of an attractive young woman in red, a traditional Spanish dress circa 18th century. Distant ancestor, she figured dismissively. Her quarry was definitely old money. Emphasis on 'old', she grinned sardonically.

She gently pried the portrait away from the wall, uncovering the door of a wall-safe. How cliché, she thought as she deftly placed her ear to the side of the vault, her hand delicately manipulating the combination dial. "C'mon, c'mon, talk to me," she whispered to the lock mechanism as she listened for tell-tale clicks that would indicate a tumbler being lowered into place. After two painstakingly slow minutes, she heard a final tumbler fall into place and tested the handle on the vault door. She heaved slightly as the door gave way, swinging open with oiled efficiency.

Shego smiled when she saw a collection of velvet jewelry cases inside the safe. "Jackpot," she said quietly, her smile resembling a shark's at the scent of blood on the water. She immediately grabbed a velvet box and opened it, lifting out the longest strand of pearls she had ever seen, each single sphere half-an-inch in diameter and flawless. Easily a few hundred-thousand right there, she estimated as she took the liberty of rubbing one of the pearls against her teeth. Satisfied that they were genuine, she stashed them in her pouch and reached for the other jewelry cases. Rings, necklaces, earrings, a small cache of diamonds and other precious stones, all huge and perfect. And untraceable on the black market. She emptied the cases into her bag and was about to close the vault and leave, when something else caught her eye.

She reached inside the safe and withdrew a small metal box. She opened the old metal box, which judging from the way the hinges shrieked hadn't been opened in years, and examined its contents. She was disappointed at seeing what looked like a scroll of dried bamboo reeds strung together like window blinds. She unfurled the scroll and glanced at the calligraphic brushwork, the neatly formed characters lined up in vertical rows. "Hmm," she grumbled to herself, "looks like a Chinese take-out menu."

Before she could return the scroll to the safe, the shrill blare of an alarm siren hacked through the stillness. She glanced at the window, only to see bars crop up in front of the opened glass. With that exit cut off, Shego stashed the scroll in her pouch and kicked down the nearby door, clearing her way into the hall. She charged down the hallway, her hands flaring with green fire, prepared to burn her way out if need be.

Before she could make her way to the rear door, a slim figure collided with hers, sending her sprawling onto the floor. As she sought to stand again, she glared murderously at the other burglar. A tall gangly figure, he almost looked skinnier than Kim Possible's sidekick, what was his name, Don, Sean? His hair was short and dark brown, and trimmed with sideburns down his cheeks. Behind the gangly figure a more stocky man wearing a fedora over his eyes came barreling after him. "Say, Boss," he grumbled, "who's your new friend?"

"Oh, hi," the gangly figure stammered, turning his attention to the angry pale-green woman whom he had landed on. "Pleased to meet you," he announced, offering his hand again. "Thanks for the soft landing."

"Get your hand out of my face or pull back a bloody stump," Shego warned darkly, causing the thief to withdraw his hand immediately and clamber off of her. As Shego stood up again, she growled, "Who the hell are you anyway?"

"Exactly what I was wondering," a cultured Spanish-accented voice caught their attention as the three thieves turned toward the main hallway. The aristocratic figure of Senor Senor Senior strode toward the hapless crooks with an air of quiet menace. "I am awakened from my sleep to find no less than three felons attempting to steal from my hacienda." Regarding the two male thieves, the elderly criminal millionaire announced in measured tones, "I don't know you. But you—" he added as he addressed Shego, "I never forget a face." As a phalanx of armed security guards ran forward and encircled the thieves, he added, "But in the end, no matter. I believe I shall let the local constabulary deal with you three."

"Wait, wait, wait a minute here," Shego stammered as she walked toward Senor. "I brought these two goombas down! I was thinking that, now that I'm officially footloose and Drakken-free, that you might be interested in my services."

Senor stared in bemusement at Shego. "So you broke into my den and stole a few million dollars in jewelry that belonged to my late wife Elena, for the sole reason of asking me for employment in my organization?"

Hearing the undisguised venom in his words slowly convinced Shego that she would need to look elsewhere for employment. "Uh, yeah, something like that."

"Then perhaps you can explain to an elderly gentleman," Senor's voice was never raised above a whisper but it grinded more fiercely than a tiger's growl, "why I should pay you money to rob my hacienda, when I can earn more money by turning you in to the authorities for the reward offered by Interpol?"

"Uh, because you're a wanted fugitive too?" Shego offered gamely.

"Ah, but I am not wanted for any crimes in Argentina," Senor answered. "Whereas you are wanted by every nation on Earth, especially after Drakken's failed 'Diablo' attack. And for the record, one of those wretched machines demolished the entire east wing of my summer home in Barcelona. So I am hardly of a mind to consider you for employment."

Shego fumed silently as her past association with Dr. Drakken caught up with her. "I so hope Drakken drops the soap," she muttered under her breath. "A lot."

"Uh, excuse me," the slim thief standing behind Shego raised his hand as he and his partner slowly backed away toward the rear door. "Seeing as how you two have a history, my friend and I will just make our goodbyes now and make our exit."

"Oh, this is goodbye, my felonious friends," Senor gestured to his security detail, all of whom began to close in on the three thieves. "But not by your leave. Guards!" he barked. "Please escort these three reprobates to the local _departamento del policía_, anonymously, of course. And feel free to handle them roughly," he added as he turned away from the three criminals and started to walk toward his bedroom.

"Well, in that case," Shego announced, a green fiery glow eminating from her fingers, "Skinny, you got a plan for getting us out of her?"

"Thought you'd never ask, sweetcheeks," the brown-haired thief answered, eyeing a skylight window overhead and five feet to his right. He withdrew a grappling gun from his inside jacket pocket and asked, "Can you hold off the welcoming committee?"

"Watch my smoke," Shego grinned darkly, unleashing a gout of green fire from her hands, firing random blasts at the guards, sending them scattering. Shego then tumbled through the gap left by the fleeing guards, her rival thieves following in pursuit. While Shego projected a wall of fire between them and the guards, the thief fired his grappler toward the skylight. The piton rocketed upward, breaking the glass skylight before latching onto the rooftop. "Hang on, sister!" he shouted, grabbing Shego by the waist as he and his partner held on to the grappler gun. Triggering the recoil on his grappler, he laughed at the guards as the three crooks quickly ascended through the broken skylight.

Once they landed on the roof, the three felons jumped to ground level and ran from the hacienda, disappearing into the night before the guards could find them. "C'mon, Shego!" the thief shouted as he and the marksman jumped into a nearby Mini Cooper. Shego managed to scramble into the back seat as the car drove off, the marksman behind the wheel.

"Man that frosts me," the thief complained as they sped away from Buenos Aeries. "Senor Senor Senior must have had the biggest stash in Argentina and we end up running away, empty handed."

"Well," Shego demurred, reaching into her pouch, "I wouldn't exactly say that." She withdrew the strand of pearls and displayed them before the thief, who was now salivating at the sight of the expensive bauble. Snatching the pearls back, Shego added, "Y'know, I'm between jobs right now, and you and your sidekick showed some pretty smooth moves. Maybe we should partner up."

"Exactly what I was thinking, Shego," the thief answered, smiling like the devil's press agent. "With my brains and your—obvious attributes, I'm thinking we could go places." As he drove the Mini Cooper, the marksman scowled silently; it was just like the boss to lose it for a pretty face and well-proportioned female body, even if her skin was pale green.

"So, we're talking equal split between the three of us, uh," Shego stalled for a moment. "Uh, I don't think I caught your name, Skinny."

"Ah, my apologies," the thief answered, continuing to turn on the charm. "The gent driving the getaway car is Jigen, and I am Arsine Lupin the Third, at your service, milady."

"Charmed," Shego snorted, monumentally unimpressed.

* * *

_Author's note: I am aware that there is an extradition treaty between the United States and Argentina, as well as Interpol, but given his history, I figure that SSS would have enough sense to keep a clean nose in Argentina while staying there, at least if he isn't planning a new elaborate criminal enterprise. Besides, as you'll see in the next chapter or so, he's beginning to question his recent life decisions._

_Acknowledgements go to Alta Vista's Babel Fish page (just look it up on your browser) for language translations in this and future chapters._

_Additional disclaimers: Lupin III, Jigen and any other related names that will crop up in later chapters (and yes, that includes Zenegata and Goemon) were created and copyrighted by Monkey Punch._


	2. Reservations for Two

Chapter two

Reservations for Two

_"Where are you going,  
With your long face pulling down?  
Don't hide away,  
Like an ocean  
That you can't see  
But you can smell  
And the sound of waves crash down_

_I am no superman.  
I have no reasons for you  
I am no hero, oh that's for sure  
But I do know one thing:  
Where you are is where I belong.  
I do know, where you go, is where I wanna be."_

_--Dave Matthews Band  
"Where Are You Going"_

For Kim Possible, life was good.

It was ten days to Christmas, she had finished her shopping (including a new baby toy for Hana, plus gifts for her uncle Slim Possible and cousin Joss, who had accepted an invitation to join the family this year for the holidays), and Bonnie had at least temporarily abandoned her efforts to ruin her relationship with Ron. That and the fact that Draken had been laying low ever since being abandoned by his most recent hench-woman, the alien amazon Warmonga, was also a plus.

She sat at her personal computer, running a spellcheck on her ten-page essay on George Orwell's Animal Farm, and had considered briefly checking with Wade, to see if there was any evidence of villainous activity. Her main concern was still Shego. Wade had informed her two weeks ago that she had escaped from a minimum security prison. How she was able to swing minimum security still surprised Kim; evidently she had betrayed her long-time employer Drakken in return for a light sentence. Hopefully, Kim mused, they won't make that mistake the next time Shego's in their custody.

Kim had faced her share of dangerous villains; Monkey Fist, Professor Dementor, even Duff Killigan could be a menace on rare occasions. But Shego was a different caliber of enemy. She was a mercenary. She didn't stage her own plans, she simply carried out the plans of Drakken. As Drakken's right hand, she was relatively predictable. But word was that she had abandoned Drakken in prison and was now looking for a new employer. If she were to work for Monkey Fist or Dementor, Kim reasoned that she would have to adjust her tactics against Shego to fit whoever signed her checks.

She could already hear Ron's voice in her head; _No big, KP. Just wait until she pulls some job or other and we'll nab her, as per usual._

She shook her head slightly, a slight smile playing at her lips. Even when he wasn't with her he could still make her smile. "Thank you, Ron," she whispered to herself.

She glanced at her clock. 4:05 PM. Ron should be getting off from his part-time job at Smarty Mart. He had volunteered for a Saturday shift, but had promised to meet her after his shift. She saved her report and turned off her computer, just as she heard her phone ring. Relieved that it wasn't the Kimmunicator, she picked up the receiver and answered, "Hello, Kim Possible here."

"Kim, you'd BBSD for this one!"

"What's up, Monique?" Kim smiled as she mentally rifled through her 'Monique-speak' lexicon to decipher her friend's customary acronym-laced speech. Better Be Sitting Down. Luckily she already was.

"I just scored two pairs of tickets to see TGG at the Middleton Arena in January!" she answered excitedly.

Kim stared blankly for a second. "TGG?" she asked finally.

"Three Green Guys," Monique said in a voice normally reserved for explaining that which was patently obvious. "They're these three guys who put on a killer rock concert, and they wear green latex make-up over their heads."

Kim blinked twice before responding; "Why?"

"Kim, they're the hottest thing out in the alt-rock scene. I know the look is weird, but trust me, these guys are off the chain! And with Club Banana sponsoring their tour, I was able to swing two pairs of tickets at the employee discount. One for Felix and myself, and one for you and Ron. Sort of an early Christmas gift for you guys."

"Thanks, Mon," Kim smiled. "I'll talk to Ron, see if he's interested."

"Just remember, the concert's on Saturday, January 27. So it won't interfere with school nights."

"That's good," Kim answered. "Oh, I'm still working Tuesday and Thursday this week, right?"

"I think so, Kim. LMC shopping's gonna be wack though. You up to it?"

"If I can deal with Shego, Monkey Fist and DNAmy on a regular basis," Kim assured her friend, "I can deal with rabid last-minute Christmas shoppers."

"Well, the good news is that if sales reach goal, the managers have agreed to give time-and-a-half for all hours next week."

"That's good news," Kim answered. "I'll see ya then, Mon." Kim heard the familiar sound of the front door swinging open, followed by a rousing "Hola, Dr. Mrs. P!" "Gotta call back, Mon, Ron's here for our date."

"Give him a kiss for me," Monique giggled.

"You sure Felix would mind that?" Kim shot back, still smiling. "Later, Mon."

"'Bye, baby girl!"

Kim hung up the phone and glanced in the mirror. After straightening her off-white peasant shirt, applying a fresh coat of gloss to her lips and running a quick comb through her hair, she smiled at her reflection, grabbed her denim jacket out of her closet and headed down from her loft bedroom.

Ron stood attentively, waiting for Kim to make her appearance. He wore a blue warm-up jacket over his regular red hockey jersey and black shirt, a sign that the weather in Colorado was cooling down. As she appeared at the top of the stairs, Ron smiled; to his eyes, no matter what Kim wore, she never looked anything less than gorgeous. "Ron!" she greeted her best-friend/boyfriend as she sailed down the stairs, practically landing in his arms. "How was work?"

"Cashier duty mostly," Ron answered. "Four hours of making change and saying, 'Have a Smarty-Mart day.' And smiling. Lots of smiling. Smiling's big there. Oh, Dr. Mrs. P," he fished out a couple of photos from his jacket pocket and handed them reverently to Kim, "Mom thought you'd like to scan these into your cyber-scrapbook." Kim glanced at the photos of Hana Stoppable, the latest addition to the Stoppable family. Kim's heart melted at the sight of the adorable black-haired baby with the deep brown eyes and cherubic smile. "Mom and Dad took the Intruder to the photo studio at Smarty Mart last week. They went for the big package. They'll be passing out wallet-sized pics to everyone within reach for at least a month."

Kim arched an eyebrow at Ron's statement. "You still call her 'the Intruder'?"

"You still call them 'the Tweebs', KP," Ron countered.

"He does have a point, Kim," Dr. Possible added.

"Sure, take his side," Kim groused theatrically. Pocketing the photos, Kim added, "Your sister is adorable, you are aware of that, right?"

"Yep, she's a cutie," Ron admitted. "Dad's already decided that in sixteen years he's gonna ask your dad if he can borrow the black hole probe, just in case any boys get any ideas. Now then," he added, changing the subject, "I got my paycheck direct-deposited, so I can treat the most bon-diggity girlfriend in Middleton to dinner." Offering Kim his arm, he added, "You up for it?"

"Always, Ron," Kim smiled as she accepted the proffered arm. "Mom? I'll be back before eleven, okay?"

"Is your homework done?"

"Just finished my report on Animal Farm," Kim answered.

"I'll settle for midnight, Kim, it isn't a school night," Anne Possible smiled as she leaned in to kiss her daughter's cheek. "But if you do have to save the world, call first, okay?"

"Promise, Mom," Kim replied, checking her purse to make sure that she carried her Kimmunicator. "Love ya, Mom, 'bye." With her quick farewell, Kim and Ron headed out on their date.

"You brought your Ron-com, right?" Kim asked her boyfriend as he escorted her to his scooter.

"Yep," Ron answered, patting his inside jacket pocket. For his birthday three months ago, Kim presented Ron with his own 'Kimmunicator', fully functional and almost identical to her own except for the red outer casing with black trim. She had originally considered calling the device a 'Ronnunicator', but somehow it didn't sound right. Ron suggested calling it the 'Ron-com', and Kim agreed whole-heartedly. To Kim's knowledge he had the device with him at all times since then. "Oh, and something else."

Kim noted that his voice had shifted slightly, become more serious, maybe a little nervous. "Ron? You okay?"

Ron reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an opened envelope. "It's the results to my SAT tests. I opened it, but was too chicken to read it." Closing his eyes, he handed the envelope over to Kim. "Read it, KP. Put me out of my misery." He held his body rigid, as though he were in front of a firing squad.

Kim took the envelope in her hands and withdrew the letter. Unfolding the letter, she glanced at the crisp white paper before reading: "To Ronald Dean Stoppable, Middleton, Colorado. Greetings. It is our pleasure to inform you that—"

"—that you achieved a score of 770, with a 5 score on the essay," Ron recited in unison with Kim, grinning hugely.

Kim stopped reading and punched Ron lightly on the shoulder. "You sneak, you _did_ read the letter!"

"I almost didn't," Ron admitted, "but Dad snatched it and took a peek. He said I made the top ten percent of Middleton's scores this year. I believe the word 'booyah' applies here."

"Spanking!" Kim laughed joyously and wrapped her arms around Ron's shoulders, kissing him on the cheeks. "This is huge! You really pulled through in this one."

"You don't have to look that surprised about it," Ron mock-pouted.

"That's not what I meant," Kim defended herself.

Ron's knowing smile matched Kim's. "Just yankin' ya, KP. Hey, underneath this eccentric type-B exterior, I do have plans for the future, y'know. I hear Upperton U's got a kickin' culinary program, and these scores will definitely help me get accepted there. Maybe opening up a restaurant somewhere down the road, start up a chain, who knows?"

Kim pursed her lips in thought for a second. "Okay, who are you and what did you do to Ron?"

"Very funny, KP," Ron scowled mildly.

"I'm kidding," Kim answered, a slightly penitent downturn to her lips. "I'm just amazed at the way you've turned yourself around over the last year."

"Wha, didn't think I had it in me?" Ron still scowled but inwardly was thrilled; for once he was able to prove himself to the one person whose opinion of him mattered most.

"Oh, I always knew what you were capable of, Ron," Kim swore fervently. "It's just that seeing you apply yourself, it's like a complete transformation. I mean, acing your SATs, pulling A's in Barken's Shakespeare class, not to mention Advanced Spanish—"

Ron's light scowl faded, revealing his trademark goofy grin. "I found out that I have an ear for languages, KP, why not put it to work? Remember that Chester Yapsby incident?"

Kim shuddered at the sudden memory of facing giant bugs, one of the few times she was legitimately freaked out. "Ron, you were speaking 'roach'."

"My point exactly. I don't even have the right mouth structure for 'roach', so Spanish was a breeze! Besides, Zita helped me a lot. Whenever we played Everlot online, she'd always text her trash-talk in Spanish. Helped me hammer out my syntax problems."

"Well, whatever it is, Ron," Kim answered, slipping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer to her, "I am ferociously proud of you. I've never seen you this motivated before."

"Hey, I got depth I haven't even used yet." Ron's words were calm, matter-of-fact, but his tone of voice held hidden truths. "I just hadn't been this motivated before."

Kim's green eyes met and captured Ron's brown. "So what happened?"

Ron's smile was warm and generous. "Six months ago I was given the title of 'Kim Possible's boyfriend'. I'm just trying to live up to it. You deserve the best, KP."

Kim leaned into Ron's embrace, murmuring into his shoulder, "I've got the best, Ron. I got you."

Kim would have been content to remain encircled in Ron's arms forever, but Ron managed to glance at his watch. "Hey, KP, we'd better get going. After all, I want to celebrate my acing the SAT's with my best friend/girlfriend."

"Let's roll," Kim answered as they reluctantly disengaged their embrace and made their way to Ron's scooter. "And thanks for ditching the bubble horn, Ron."

"Is the Sloth still in the shop?" Ron asked.

"The tweebs said something about tricking it out. Then they said something about the Aston-Martin from 'Goldfinger'."

"Be afraid," Ron intoned ominously. "Be very afraid." Ron pulled two helmets out of the boot of his scooter and handed one to Kim, who pulled it over her head. Ron mounted the scooter, and Kim took her seat behind her, wrapping her arms around his waist as he revved up the motor, and the scooter peeled out of the driveway of the Possible home at a blinding speed of twenty miles an hour.

Kim hadn't received her SAT scores yet, but was confident that she did well; for her taking a test was like any of the other activities in her life, from cheerleading to saving the world from madmen. No big. But she was still apprehensive about college, especially given her decision to apply to colleges outside of the United States. Her reasoning was simple; having saved the world so many times, she wanted to see the world.

When she made her announcement, Ron had complained, "I'm gonna have to apply for more schools." It was meant jokingly, but it was clear that he hoped to be able to attend college with her. Something she wanted as well, but even considering his SAT scores, would he be accepted? Would he and his family be able to afford to send him overseas? If not, would their relationship survive long-distance?

"I believe that you are Ron-san's destiny," Yori had said the last time they spoke, while attempting to retrieve an ancient magical artifact coveted by Monkey Fist. Words that cheered Kim at the time, and words she prayed would prove true. But for now, she was content to leave her concerns for the future in the future, and concentrate on simply being with Ron. She leaned forward, her arms firmly wrapped around Ron's waist as the scooter sped on.

While it wasn't the most glamorous mode of transportation available, Kim had to admit that she enjoyed riding behind Ron on his two-wheeler. Kim reveled in the closeness that riding the back of the scooter necessitated, as her hands gently stroked Ron's chest. "Hey, KP," Ron joked, "as much as I'm enjoying your hands, they are a little distracting, especially on the road."

"Looks like you're doing fine to me," Kim answered, snuggling in closer as she watched the houses and buildings pass them by. Within seconds, Ron steered his scooter toward their favorite hangout—and then passed it by.

"Ron," Kim lifted her head in surprise. "You just passed Bueno Nacho."

"Man does not live by nacos alone, KP," Ron smiled knowingly. "Besides you're always saying we should mix it up a little."

"Oh?" Kim purred as she leaned back into Ron's shoulder, her curiosity piqued; after Ron's infamous Bueno Nacho Diet experiment, Kim was relieved that he was occasionally willing to forgo his favorite eatery. "What did you have in mind?"

"Tonight, I made reservations for the Garlic Grove," Ron announced. "Dad took Mom there for their wedding anniversary last week and she's been raving about it since. She told me that they make a chicken alfredo that dances on the tongue."

"Sounds wonderful," Kim cooed dreamily. "It's been so long since I had Italian."

"Well tonight," Ron announced, "you'll be calling yourself 'Kim Pasta-ful'."

"Way to go, Ron Stromboli," Kim grinned in response. "Oh, before I forget, Monique called just before you came. She said she scored two pairs of tickets to a concert in January. Something called TGG."

"Three Green Guys?" Ron shouted. "Badical!"

"Okay, going out on a limb here," Kim quipped, "you've heard of these guys."

"Saw a few of their videos on the Music Channel," Ron answered as he navigated the scooter toward the Garlic Grove. "Those guys are awesome!"

"This from the last remaining O-Boyz fan?" Kim teased her boyfriend. "Yeah, that's a ringing endorsement."

"I'm tellin' ya, KP," Ron enthused, "Three Green Guys put on the coolest multi-media rock show ever!"

"Okay," Kim smiled, "I'll tell Mon that we'll meet her and Felix at the Middleton Arena for the concert."

"Boo-yah!" Ron shouted. "Okay, KP, Garlic Grove, two blocks away."

_Beep-beep-be-beep!_

"Aw, so near and yet so far," Ron complained. Kim stifled her frustrated groan while Ron dutifully slowed the scooter into a stop while pulling over.

Pulling her Kimmunicator out of her purse, she switched on the screen and answered the call; "Talk to me, Wa-wa-what the—Senor?" Kim almost dropped the device when she saw the face of one of her arch-foes peering aristocratically out of her screen.

The elderly Spanish gentleman smiled darkly toward the camera. "So," he intoned with civil menace, "you remember me, Kimberly Possible. I cannot help but be touched. I, of course, remember you." He glowered at Kim for a second, his eyes cold dark slits, before laughter began to bubble from his lips and his features softened, his eyes regarding Kim in an almost grandfatherly manner. "Forgive me, Senorita Possible," Senor Senor Senior chuckled. "It has been too long since I have had the chance to practice my 'villain voice'."

"Stow it, Senor," Kim snarled. "What did you do to Wade?"

"I assure you that your associate, Mr. Load, is quite unharmed," Senor assured her.

As the millionaire criminal spoke, Kim heard a faint chirping sound emanating from Ron's jacket pocket. After a second, she recognized the sound; the Naked Mole Rap. "Ron," Kim whispered, "you gotta find a better ringtone."

Grinning sheepishly, Ron surreptitiously withdrew the Ron-Com from his pocket and switched on the screen. Wade breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Ron. "Don't ask me how," Wade announced, anticipating Kim and Ron's question before they asked, "but SSS managed to hack into my system and was able to broadcast a transmission to the Kimmunicator. He even managed to get past the added security I installed after Team Impossible spiked my system."

"Why didn't Triple S manage to take over the Ron-Com?" Ron asked.

"I was able to modulate the broadcast signal so I could link to the Ron-Com before he could," Wade answered, his fingers flying over his computer keyboard. "Maybe I can get a trace on his signal—"

"Kimberly," Senor requested, a pained tone in his voice, "I would request that your young associate not try to tamper with my systems, for his sake. They are firewalled, with a few elaborate traps installed for unwary hackers."

Kim glanced at Ron, nodding once. "Lay off the hackwork, li'l dude," Ron told Wade. Wade nodded, taking his hands off the keyboard.

"A most wise decision, Senor Load," Senor answered. "You may rest assured, Kimberly, that I have no intentions of uploading a virus or looting your personal information. I simply chose this—unorthodox—approach in order to contact you."

"I'm so thrilled," Kim answered acidly. "Would you care to explain why, Senor?"

"All things in their course, Kimberly. I shall explain myself shortly. But first, allow me to extend my congratulations on your new relationship with Ronald."

"Hold up," Kim interrupted, "when did you find out about us?"

"Why, Kimberly," Senor laughed anew, "you and Ronald have been the talk of the villain community since that regrettable Diablo incident. I personally learned the news from DNAmy, and she was quite thrilled. My poor Junior, on the other hand, has been disconsolate. For weeks, he locked himself into his bedroom, crying out, 'How could my Blue Fox do this to me, her Yellow Trout?' And I thought he had abandoned that Animology foolishness years ago."

"Look, Senor," Kim intoned levelly, reining in her ire at having her romantic evening with Ron interrupted, "as much as I like discussing the latest gossip with eccentric villains, I'm in the middle of what's promising to be a very hot date, so would you kindly tell me what your game plan is?"

"Yeah, what she said—" Ron began, before becoming sidetracked; "Wait a sec, KP, just how hot were you talking?"

"RON!" Kim glared at her boyfriend. "Focus."

"Just trying to avoid Black Hole issues," Ron muttered.

"Direct and to the point as always," Senor declared. "A quality I much admire in you, Kimberly. I will therefore pay you the compliment of being every bit as direct. Kimberly, Ronald, I wish to hire your services."

Ever since Kim and Ron first formed Team Possible, Kim has traveled to the four corners of the globe. She has faced robots, ninjas, mutated monsters, people enhanced by objects of great power, giant roaches and aliens. She once swapped minds with Ron, fell victim to a mind-control chip, orbited the Earth, and even traveled through time (although owing to the laws of temporal paradox she herself had no memory of that event). Given the wide range of unusual phenomena she had experienced during her seventeen years on Earth, Kim had become generally unflappable in the face of the bizarre, and rare were the occasions where her mouth would hang open from pure surprise.

After five seconds, she regained her composure enough to close her mouth. She turned to face Ron for a second, and he only shrugged his shoulders; he had no idea why Senor would make such a request.

"Senor," she started calmly as she turned her attention back to the Kimmunicator, "have you finally flipped? If you think for one second that I'm going to help you pull of one of your take-over-the-world schemes—"

"Forgive me, Kimberly," Senor interrupted with a curt wave of his hand. "I may have chosen my words poorly. If I may rephrase, I want you to aid me in solving a crime that occurred in my home last night, and I am prepared to pay you handsomely."

"You're saying that you're the victim of a robbery?" Kim asked slowly, making sure she understood him.

"Whoa, karma-gram for Senor Senor Senior!" Ron quipped, only to have Kim jab his side lightly with her elbow.

"Let me explain, as you would call it, 'the sitch'," Senor waved aside Ron's commentary. "Last night my hacienda in Buenos Aeries was broken into, and my jewel safe was rifled through. The stolen merchandise has been appraised at close to fifty million dollars American." He paused for a moment, and Kim would have sworn that she saw the faintest trace of a tear forming in his eye before he continued; "As the jewels in question were gifts that I had given my late wife Elena, Junior's mother, during the years of our marriage, to me the stolen jewels are priceless. Obviously, given my, shall we say, unsavory past, I am not prepared to report the loss to the police. Besides, I trust your prowess and your intelligence more than I trust the local constabulary." After a pregnant pause, Senor added, "Especially considering the perpetrators."

Kim pursed her lips in thought for a second. "Someone I've tangled with before, huh?"

"There were three intruders, Kimberly," Senor answered. "Two of them I did not recognize. But the third one, the one who actually succeeded in absconding with my wife's jewels, was Shego."

Kim cursed inaudibly under her breath. "I'd been tracking her since she escaped from prison," she mused morosely. "And I don't think she forgot that I kicked her into that signal tower during the Diablo incident."

"It would seem then," Senor smiled slightly, "that your interests dovetail with mine. I propose a truce between us for the duration of this investigation, and I am prepared to pay five hundred thousand dollars, in American, for the safe recovery of Elena's jewels. You may use the money to pay for your college education, contribute the entire sum to the charity of your choice or simply tear the check up and toast me with the confetti, it matters not to me."

"Any other details you want to share with me?" Kim asked.

"I would rather say that in person, Kimberly," Senor hedged slightly. "Perhaps I can make up for your interrupted date. I invite you and Ronald to join me at my Buenos Aeries residence, to discuss the details of the crime over an authentic South American dinner. I'll admit that it has been awhile since I've cooked for myself, but I do have an excellent recipe for Enchiladas Suiza. Then you may view the crime scene, the surveillance videos and the insurance photographs of the missing jewels. If, after our discussion, you choose not to accept my offer, then I will consider the matter closed and return the two of you to Middleton, Colorado, unharmed."

"And considering that I trust you about as much as I trust Shego," Kim challenged, "why should I believe you?"

Senor regarded Kim solemnly, before speaking. "I swear to you, on my honor as a gentleman, that you shall come to no harm by myself, my son, or anyone under my employ, for as long as this détente lasts. I have taken the liberty of instructing my private Leer jet to land at Middleton International Airport. It should be arriving within ten minutes, and my pilot has been instructed to wait for half an hour. That gives you forty minutes to rendezvous with the jet, which will then fly you directly to my hacienda. We may discuss business then."

"And if I decide not to meet your jet?"

Senor shook his head sadly. "Then we will not discuss the matter again. And we will go back to the way things were, until the next time we cross swords. But please consider my proposal, Senorita Possible. Consider the plea of an old man who wishes only to restore the memory of his beloved wife. I hope to see you later this evening." Senor reached for a switch, and Kim's screen went blank.

"Wade," Ron called into his Ron-Com, "your system's still working?"

"Yeah," Wade answered, his hands flying again over the keyboard. "No signs of viruses or Trojan horse programs. But it's gonna take me all week to do a full scan and upgrade the security protocols so that won't happen again."

"Wade," Kim leaned into Ron's shoulder as she spoke to Team Possible's resident gearhead, "any signs of that jet?"

"On it, Kim," Wade pulled up the MI Airport database on his system in a matter of seconds. "Air traffic control is guiding a Leer jet from Buenos Aeries onto a separate runway at Middleton International even as we speak. Looks like Senor was on the level, at least about the jet."

"You continue to rock, Wade," Kim answered brightly.

"What she said," Ron added. "We'll keep in touch. 'Bye." Ron switched off his Ron-Com and turned to Kim, not quite knowing what to say.

"So Ron," Kim asked quietly. "What do you think we should do now?"

Ron smirked slightly as he answered, "I say we start by splitting a plate of deep-fried raviolis as an appetizer, and maybe some minestrone."

"Ron," Kim groaned, "I was talking about Senor."

"I know that," Ron answered, "I was just doing the distraction thing."

Kim stared at Ron for a second, before she realized that he was just doing his duty as her partner and boyfriend, to keep her grounded and hopefully elicit a chuckle. The irritation faded from her eyes, replaced by mild amusement. "KP," Ron continued, "as much as I'd rather be spending the night swapping bites of my eggplant parmesan with your chicken primavera, I'm thinking that we should at least consider Senor's offer."

"I'm not taking his money!" Kim swore emphatically, and perhaps a little too loudly as she noticed Ron's hands reaching for his ears. She grimaced slightly and mouthed an apology.

"I didn't say that you had to, KP," Ron raised his voice a touch, "although with college coming up, that might come in handy. But right now, villain-wise, our big concern is Shego. She's probably got a revenge jones the size of Drakken's ego after your last battle. And if Senor has some info that will help us track her down, then maybe we should at least hear him out."

Kim regarded Ron's words, and realized that he had a point. Senor was certainly a threat, with plenty of resources to back up whatever plans he could formulate. But Shego was the more immediate threat. And without Drakken, she literally didn't have any idea where Shego would strike next. "I just wish that I could trust Senor, y'know?"

"Well, he did give his word," Ron observed. "And if it were Monkey Fist or Drakken or Killigan, I'd expect them to stab us in the back, both metaphorically and literally, but Senor's got this whole old-school 'code of honor' thing. I think that if he gives his word he'll keep it. Besides," he commented, "the way he talked about his wife and how Shego stole what was once hers. I think he really wants those jewels back."

Kim nodded slowly; whatever issues she had with the idea of doing business with Senor, apprehending Shego was her main priority, especially if Shego decided to pursue a vendetta against Kim, and decided that her parents, the Tweebs, her friends or even Ron would become targets. "You're right, Ron," she admitted.

"Hey," Ron barked, "no need to act all surprised. It does happen sometimes."

Kim chuckled at Ron's mock-angry tirade before reaching for her Kimmunicator. Switching the device to 'cellular' mode, she dialed up her mother and informed her that she might be a little late coming home from her date with Ron. When her mother asked why, Kim only answered, "It's a save-the-world thing. No big."

* * *

_Author's note: No Lupin and friends this time, but don't worry, the world's greatest thief(he is, really, just ask him!) will be a major part of my story. Between Lupin, Fujiko, Zenigata, Shego, Drakken, and Team Possible, this thing could turn into a regular free-for-all! And I haven't mentioned all the players yet!_

_I rewrote this chapter to incoroprate elements of season four. I included Hana, as well as Kim's applying to overseas colleges, to add some subplots to the story. Hope to have updates up, but I'm also juggling RL and an X-Men story on the site as well. __Oh, and for those who were wondering, Rufus is asleep in his super-sized habitrail. Ron and Kim agreed that the mole-rat shouldn't accompany them on Date Night._

_For those playing the ol' Kimverse comparisons game, "Three Green Guys" is the Kimverse equivalent of Blue Man Group, and The Garlic Grove is akin to The Olive Garden._

_And I promise, no more Star Trek II jokes after this chapter._

_Next chapter, My Dinner with Senor. More Shego, more Lupin III, and an explaination of how Sun Wukong figures in the mix._


End file.
